


Working These Things Out

by ToraMeri



Series: Reincarnation Verse [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Bottom Enjolras, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, No Dialogue, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rough Sex, Vaguely dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2568587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToraMeri/pseuds/ToraMeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are going amazingly for Enjolras. He has a good job, he's been accepted into the honors program at his university, he has amazing friends... Who also happen to be his friends from his past life. Everyone is supporting each other with this turn of events. There's just one tiny hiccup: Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working These Things Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [besanii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/besanii/gifts).



> Happy birthday [besanii](http://besanii.tumblr.com), one of the most amazing people I've had the privilege to talk to!  
> And here's another entry in the "Experimenting With Different Writing Styles" log

Enjolras looked over to Grantaire’s seat, silently fuming, as if he was blaming the chair for the other man’s non-appearance. It was all rather illogical, he told himself. After all, a chair is a chair. It’s an inanimate object; there would be no way for it to have an effect of whether or not Grantaire chooses to show up to the meeting. Enjolras normally wouldn’t be bothered by Grantaire’s decision to not come to one of their meetings. It wasn’t like he was an integral member of the group like Combeferre or Courfeyrac. Grantaire was often unreliable, and a distraction to boot. Except… this was the first meeting they were holding ever since their memories returned. Grantaire’s last words to him just before the National Guard ended them both floated through his mind. Maybe he understood him wrong? Anyone of the others would have done the same… right? But the look on his face as he asked for permission to die at his side… The hope, the quiet desperation in his eyes… The joy and pure relief breaking through when Enjolras took his hand… Enjolras may not be the most observant person when it comes to other peoples’ feelings – he still refuses to admit the length of time it took for him to notice that his best friends were dating – but what Grantaire had done couldn’t be misconstrued as anything else. That, combined with the manner with which he teased Enjolras – when he was sober enough that is; when he went past the tipping point into drunkenness, he was plain combative – left no other explanation. His eyes locked onto Feuilly, who had just walked into the room. Perhaps he would have an explanation as to why Grantaire chose not to show up, even after Enjolras had sent out a vaguely threatening group message warning everyone to come to this meeting because they needed to talk about this thing goddammit. This time around, Feuilly and Grantaire had known each other the longest. They had grown up in the same foster home, remaining attached by the hip into adulthood, bonding over being the only non-white children in the home; with Feuilly’s slanted Asiatic eyes and Grantaire’s wild curls against his dark skin, they certainly stood out. Along the way, they ended up picking up Jehan, forming a trio with fantastic artistic talent that was reflected in the furniture Feuilly carved out ever so lovingly, and in Jehan’s poetry that Grantaire painted across the walls of their apartment in calligraphic script. Before Enjolras could ask Feuilly about Grantaire’s whereabouts, he shook his head. No, Feuilly didn’t know where Grantaire was either. He squeezes Feuilly’s shoulder and moves to go curl up next to where Courfeyrac is sitting on the floor by Combeferre’s feet, and they end up tangled together – Enjolras won’t say that they’re cuddling, but Combeferre and Courfeyrac hold him close anyways. Not too long after, Enjolras’ eyes are drifting closed, lulled into sleep by his friends’ body heat, when the door bangs open, and Jehan is dragging Grantaire inside. The sight is a rather humorous one: a tiny Indian non-binary person, physically dragging xir much taller, pudgier, black roommate into a slightly crowded room. Enjolras shifted to move out of the circle that Combeferre and Courfeyrac held him in – to do what, he had no idea. Talk to Grantaire? The other man wasn’t even looking at him, focusing instead on the bottle of unidentifiable liquor in front of him. Enjolras blew an errant lock of hair from his face, ignoring the way Courfeyrac was teasing him about the pout on his face. It wasn’t a pout goddammit. He was just frustrated over Grantaire’s refusal to arrive on time without being forced into it. It was no matter to him what he did at the meetings – just so long as it wasn’t disruptive. They get through the meeting without much fuss; Enjolras’ eyes seek out Grantaire’s form as he speaks, but to no avail. The other man won’t even acknowledge him, choosing instead to drown himself in bottle after bottle. The meeting is going rather smoothly – not counting all the times Enjolras pauses at the moments where Grantaire would normally interject with some sort of comment – and they manage to get through everyone’s explanations of their last moments, even Marius’ tearful apologies for surviving long past the rest of them. Enjolras feel something warm inside him at that. If there was anyone who would be able to go about for the rest of their lives after the rest of them were gone, it would be Marius. The rest of them were much too codependent. Marius had Cosette, and later on, their children to help him deal with the pain. The minute the meeting ends, however, Grantaire leaps to his feet and rushes out the door with a surprising amount of grace, considering his girth and how much alcohol he had consumed. Disappointment settles in the pit of Enjolras’ stomach. Grantaire was intent on ignoring him – ignoring what had happened between them all those years ago – and he doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. There was hardly a moment since they met – in both lives – in which Grantaire was not a constant presence in the background of his life, and now that he’s gone, Enjolras misses him desperately.

* * *

 

The days pass by, and the days turn into weeks, and the weeks turn into months, and still Grantaire avoids Enjolras. When the third month of Grantaire steadfastly ignoring Enjolras comes and goes, the frustration breaks through Enjolras’ resolve to give him some space. He knows that Grantaire is still at work, so he goes and waits outside of his apartment building. The exhaustion of multiple weeks’ worth of planning protests, the protests themselves, school, and volunteer work catches up to him when he takes a seat on a bench next to the building, and he quickly falls asleep. He’s woken up by Grantaire shaking him awake a few hours later, an amused smile tugging at his lips at the pile of coins surrounding him. They don’t speak as he follows Grantaire into the building and up the stairs, the rickety elevator too unreliable to go past a single floor without stalling. Once they’re inside the apartment, Grantaire fills the tea kettle with water and sets it on the stove to boil. He’s still ignoring Enjolras, and the accusation flies out. The argument that ensues is loud enough to rattle the windows. They know each other too well – perhaps even better now that they have the memories of their past lives – and they know which words will hurt the most. It isn’t clear who throws the first punch, but pretty soon they’re grappling with each other, toppling the kitchen chairs over onto the floor, until Enjolras gains the upper hand for a moment. He pushes Grantaire onto the table, presses his legs apart, and steps into the space between them. He pauses, waiting for Grantaire to push him away, to tell him no, but nothing. There’s barely an inch of space between them, their breath coming in heavily, filling up the space with humid warmth. Enjolras leans in first, gripping Grantaire’s thighs lightly, massaging them softly as he presses his lips to his. Grantaire’s hands come up to hold Enjolras’ hair, tugging roughly at the wayward curls. The kiss is oddly gentle compared to how they had gotten to that point. Enjolras moves his hands up to Grantaire’s pudgy waist, pulling him closer, and now they’re pressed up against each other, and Enjolras _knows_ Grantaire can feel his erection, can feel how he reacts to him every single time. The shriek of the tea-kettle’s whistle breaks through the haze of arousal, and Grantaire ~~finally~~ pushes Enjolras away roughly, his eyes wild with emotion. He slips off of the table and turns off the stove, refusing to look Enjolras in the eye all the while. Enjolras feels the anger rising again, and just as he touches Grantaire’s shoulder, he’s being spun around and bent over the counter. He pretends to struggle away, but Grantaire’s hands are keeping him securely in place. One of Grantaire’s hands snakes its way downwards, hesitating slightly when it reaches Enjolras’ belt. Enjolras cants his hips forward, simultaneously seeking out friction on his still hard cock, and silently giving Grantaire permission to continue. He feels Grantaire kneeling behind him, pulling his jeans and underwear down with him. Enjolras is starting to consider begging him to just do _something_ , when he Grantaire presses a kiss to the swell of his ass, making his way lower until he reaches Enjolras’ entrance. He blows a puff of air into the furled pucker, making it twitch and Enjolras give out a moan in response. His tongue presses into the tight sphincter, pushing in past the rings of muscle. Enjolras’ knees buckle, and if it isn’t for Grantaire’s hands on his hips, he thinks he might have collapsed onto the floor. This… this is the result of nearly 200 years’ worth of dancing around each other, and it is glorious. Enjolras wants to punch his past self in the face for not realizing that what he had been steadfastly ignoring for so long would be this wonderful, but if Grantaire kept on twisting his tongue the way he was currently doing, he supposes that all could be forgiven. He dimly realizes that the ragged moans echoing throughout the room are coming from him. Feeling his orgasm fast approaching, he reaches behind him and pushes Grantaire away roughly, and collapses onto the tiled kitchen floor, panting heavily. After a few seconds of catching his breath in an attempt to calm himself down, he reaches for Grantaire’s pants, but his hands are swatted away. Before he can protest, his annoyance spiking swiftly, he’s being pulled to his feet. Grantaire bends his head slightly to kiss Enjolras again before picking him up. Enjolras grips Grantaire’s shoulders, fingers clenching tightly in his shirt, and wraps his legs around his waist. He can feel them moving towards the bedroom, Grantaire obviously experienced in moving around his apartment while impaired. He only falters when they reach the bedroom, and setting Enjolras back on his feet, he pushes him onto the bed. They rush through preparation, and when Grantaire slides in, it burns so sweetly, Enjolras can’t help but rake his nails down his back probably leaving marks that will stay there for days, if not weeks. That thought gives Enjolras the sudden strength to flip them over, causing Grantaire’s cock to go deeper. Bracing himself on Grantaire’s chest, he begins to push himself up and down, his thighs soon beginning to strain through the punishing pace he was keeping. He contents himself with raking his nails down Grantaire’s chest, pinching and rolling his nipples between his fingers every so often, just content watching Grantaire fall apart beneath him. He’s so caught up in looking at Grantaire, he doesn’t even notice his orgasm creeping up on him until he’s shuddering through it, curling in on himself and biting hard on the junction of Grantaire’s neck and shoulder to stifle his moans. When he comes back to himself, Grantaire is still hard within him. He pulls off slowly, whimpering as the movement jars his over sensitized skin. He rolls off to the side, and curls a hand around Grantaire’s cock, pressing kisses and sucking marks into his neck as he strokes his dick. It only takes a few strokes of his hand before Grantaire comes with a sound somewhere between a sigh and a choked-off groan. Enjolras lifts his hand to his mouth and begins licking it clean. He’s sucking the come off of his index finger when he feels Grantaire’s eyes on him. He continues cleaning off his hand, alternating between licking and sucking, maintaining perfect eye contact with Grantaire, watching his breathing deepen and his eyes darken with lust once more. When he’s done, Grantaire pulls him down into an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue chasing the taste of his own come from Enjolras’ mouth. Soon enough, the kiss becomes less of a kiss, and more of breathing into each other’s’ mouth as exhaustion takes over and they drift off into sleep.

* * *

 

The next morning, Enjolras wakes up to an empty bed. He’s overcome by a rush of anger that disappears as quickly as it arrived, his eyes prickling with tears instead. He flops back down onto the pillows, mulishly deciding that if Grantaire didn’t want to face him, he’d wait in his bed until he didn’t have any other choice. He turns his face into a pillow, letting it absorb his tears. He lays there in Grantaire’s bed for almost an hour before his own inherent inability to remain still for extended periods of time gets the better of him. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he gets dressed in his clothes of the day before. He hesitates for a few moments before discarding his shirt, and replacing it with a hoodie from Grantaire’s closet. He sits back down on the bed, wondering what to say to Grantaire when he returns – wondering if he’ll only make things worse. Eventually, he gets frustrated enough with himself to escape the confines of the bedroom. The sight of the mess that greets him isn’t all that surprising. He caught glimpses of it the day before, even though the only trace of it in the kitchen was the stack of unwashed dishes in the sink. An idea hits him, and he goes to find Grantaire’s cleaning products. Half of them, he finds in the cabinet under the kitchen sink, and the rest are in a small cupboard just by the bathroom. Surveying the apartment, he decides to start by cleaning the living room – the room where the mess is the worst – and moving on from there.

Hours later, he collapses on the couch, finally cleared of the clutter that was piled on its surface, and cleaned of the dust gathering under it. The sound of the key in the lock startles him, and before he realizes it, his nails are digging into his palms. By the time he calms himself down enough to unclench his fists, Grantaire is walking into the room, shedding his jacket as he walks. He freezes when he sees Enjolras sitting on the couch, holding his jacket in one hand, and his keys in the other.  Enjolras offers him a tentative smile and sheepishly explains why he needed to deep clean every inch of the apartment. Grantaire’s face is unreadable as he comes to sit next to Enjolras on the couch. Enjolras’ voice trails off midway through his explanation – which had become less of an explanation and more of a rant about Grantaire. He touches Grantaire’s knee softly, treating him like a skittish animal that might run away at any wrong move. There are questions asked, and answers are given in return. They sit in silence together on the couch, and then Grantaire takes Enjolras’ hand, lacing their fingers together, reminiscent of the way they did all those years ago. There are still things they need to work out between them, but for now this is good.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about turning this into a series, because there are just so many possibilities ~~and headcanons~~ that can happen in this universe. We'll see. Come say hi on [tumblr](http://actuallysecretlygrantaire.tumblr.com)!


End file.
